Respect
by PrincessofPunk8
Summary: After showing disrespect towards her, AJ decides that she has to teach CM Punk respect in an unusual way. AJ Lee/Punk; ONESHOT; het...kinda; RAPE


**Something a little different for me. Written for Cal_Wills, since she's on a AJ/Punk kick lately. An idea that grew from her idea, and was contributed to by both of us, I was just the one who wrote it down eventually.**

**Warning: Involves pegging. In other words, a female fucking a man with a strap on. And RAPE.**

**EDIT: My apologies to Guest, who complained about the lack of a rape warning. **

* * *

"What the hell do you want?" Punk snapped as he stepped into the General Managers office. AJ smiled sweetly at him, motioning for him to take a seat.

"I'm your boss now, you will show me the proper respect," she stated, the look in her eyes and the tone of her voice demanding obedience, despite the smile playing over her lips. Narrowing his eyes, he took a seat and stretched his legs out, looking as if he was relaxed and confident, the smirk playing over his own lips only helping the illusion.

"And if I don't?" he challenged. AJ batted her eyelashes and leant her elbows on the desk, leaning forward.

"It wouldn't make things as easy as they could be Punky…" she giggled. "Your Championship duties have been added to."

"And what else do I have to do to satisfy you?" he asked with a roll of his eyes. When she didn't reply, just let a slightly maniacal grin slide across her lips, realised what she was hinting at and stood back, his chair sliding across the room and smacking into the wall at his sudden movement.

"Hell no!" he snapped. "There is no way that this was approved by the board of directors!" AJ giggled again and stared up at him.

"All I have to do is tell them that you're not performing your duties," she informed him. "I don't have to be more specific. And they'll authorise me to strip your title from you." He froze, and stared at her.

"So you want me to prostitute myself out to keep my title?" he asked in disbelief. "No way." He placed the title on her desk and headed for the door.

"Goes for your job too Punky," she called after him, causing him to freeze. While this time last year he'd been prepared to walk away from the WWE on his own terms, now he wasn't so sure. Especially if it was put around that he'd been 'future endeavoured' because of a failure to fulfil his duties as a champion, he'd be ruined in the business. The only promotion that would take him would be TNA, and he felt his lip curl at the thought of having to put over washed up wrestlers to keep his job. Slowly he felt his hand fall off the door knob, and heard his voice state his agreement to the deal, even though he still wasn't pleased with it.

"Good!" she announced cheerfully. She moved to sit on the side of the desk closest to him, crooking her finger. He stepped closer, tentatively sitting back in the chair between her thighs.

"What do I have to do?" he asked, desperately hoping that his nervousness didn't show through. Swinging her legs slightly, AJ actually looked thoughtful.

"You have to make me happy," she announced finally. "In any way I choose." The grin accompanied by the head tilt made Punk worried, but he tried to hide it behind a cocky smirk.

"Make up your mind," he sighed, trying to sound bored. AJ grinned and stripped her jacket off, followed by her shirt and her bra.

"Suck it _champ_," she ordered, shifting to straddle his hips. He raised his eyebrow, and reluctantly leant down, nipping at her nipple lightly. AJ rested her hands on Punks shoulders and arched her back lightly, digging her nails in to his skin. Taking that as encouragement, he sucked briefly before switching to the other nipple, nipping viciously at it until she slapped him around the back of the head.

"Not so hard," she demanded before she pulled back, and stripped down the rest of the way before resuming her position on the edge of the desk, spreading her thighs. Punk raised an eyebrow, and AJ rolled her eyes before she used her legs to draw his chair in to her.

"I suggest you get on with your duties," she said sweetly. "Before I have to take more…drastic measures." Punk frowned, not understanding her words until AJ let out a sigh, and rolled her eyes again.

"Get your mouth between my thighs and make me cum before I strip you of that championship," she snapped. Punk nibbled at his lip ring for a moment before he did as he was directed, leaning forward to swipe his tongue over her clit lightly before he pressed in gently inside her. AJ cried out, her thighs briefly tightening around his head before she forced herself to relax and open her legs back up, although her hands still slid into Punks hair, and gripped the short locks as best she could. He grunted at the sudden pressure on his head, but a sharp tug on his hair ended that, and made him redirect his attention to the task at hand-making his demented, psycho boss cum. He dragged his tongue over her clit, nipping lightly at it-delighting at the moan rather than another hair tug-before he brought a hand up to his mouth, planning on fingering her to her climax, hoping to get it over with. Unfortunately for him, AJ felt his hand brush up against her inner thigh and she yanked his head back by his hair, clicking her tongue and tutting at him.

"Oh dear me Punky," she chirped, shaking her head in disappointment. "You couldn't even follow a simple instruction. I guess that you and I are just going to have to take more drastic measures to teach you respect. Stand up, and strip." With a secret little smile she leapt off the desk, and landed next to him, before she crossed to behind her desk. With obvious reluctance, Punk did as he was told, turning around stripping until he was completely naked, before he hesitantly turned around to face the brunette woman. AJ giggled when she looked at him, prompting him to link his hands in front of his body at an attempt to hide his flaccid cock.

"Oh Punky, you don't need that tonight," she said, skipping around to stand in front of him, proudly displaying her strap-on, already in place.

"Oh no!" he snapped, backing up until his back hit the wall. "You are NOT fucking me with that thing!" AJ giggled and walked up to him, tilting her head and fixing him with a firm glare.

"It's so cute how you think you have a choice," she said, her face turning hard. "Now bend over the desk, immediately, or you're out of a job, and I'm fucking you anyway." Punk frowned, unsure on how a 95 pound woman could force him to bend over for her, but not willing to test her theory or her patience. He'd seen first-hand how insane she could get-pushing him through a table as punishment for ignoring her had proven that-and it would be just his luck that she had accomplices' waiting to help her 'teach him respect' to quote her. So, very reluctantly and very slowly, he crossed to her desk and leant down, bracing his body on his forearms against the top of the desk, closing his eyes and resting his head on his folded arms.

"You've been suck a naughty boy Punky," AJ's voice sounded from right behind him, and he couldn't help but tense up as he felt her strap on rest lightly against his ass. "And naughty boys don't get lube. Or stretching."

"AJ wait!" he cried out in panic, before he screamed as she forced her strap on inside his virgin ass. He buried his face back into his arms, trying desperately to hold the tears at bay. He'd torn a lot in his career, had his fair share of injuries. But having something forced inside his ass with no prep, especially since it was his first time, was more intense than he had ever experienced. Especially since the pain was shooting up his spine, and AJ had only paused for a moment before she began to fuck him in earnest, giggling maniacally the whole time. Plain and simple, it hurt. And he had to exercise all of his self-control to keep from giving her the pleasure of seeing exactly how much it was hurting him. Although he suspected that she could probably tell, especially considering the soft whimpers of pain escaping his mouth, or how tense his body was.

Eventually, the blood that was caused by the tearing of his ass began to lubricate AJ's thrusts gradually, and the pain began to recede marginally. And occasionally, one of her thrusts hit something deep inside him that sent sparks of pleasure up his spine, instead of the pain to which he was becoming accustomed. His hole stretched around her invading strap on, and it began to also lessen the pain that he felt. And to his eternal shame, the thrusts against his prostate began to stimulate his cock, and he could feel it begin to harden against his will. Cursing it in his head, he groaned softly, intentionally ignoring the maniacal giggles from the petite woman behind him, and winced as he felt her nails drag down his back, her thrusts becoming erratic, deviating from the careful and calculated thrusts that she had been using the entire time she had been fucking him. She cried out herself, and he felt her still before she pulled out and groaned softly, walking around to the back of her desk and stripping her strap on off, giggling when Punk pushed himself to his feet with a groan.

"Little hard there Punky?" she teased, watching as he flushed bright red, scrambling for his underwear and crying out when the movement sent a sharp pain up his spine. "Careful careful." He sent a glare in her direction before he tugged his underwear and his jeans up as carefully as possible, hobbling out of the room.

* * *

The next week, Punk knew he had no choice but to go out and apologise to AJ. If he were honest with himself, and he made it a practice to be honest with himself, he was a little scared that she was going to try and teach him another lesson about respect if he didn't apologise. So he decided right up, that he was going to apologise. Not for the reasons that everyone was going to think it was, to get out of the match. But to avoid getting his ass raped again. Especially if that meant ignoring the little voice inside his head that reminded him that a part of him had enjoyed being fucked in the ass. Now, hopefully AJ would accept it without question.


End file.
